


Sarah Jane's Last Dance

by Kittenmommy



Category: Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:52:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittenmommy/pseuds/Kittenmommy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything has its time. And everything ends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sarah Jane's Last Dance

**Author's Note:**

> _Doctor Who_ belongs to the BBC, and I'm not making any money from this.

“The Universe has to move forward. Pain and loss, they define us as much as happiness or love. Whether it’s a world, or a relationship… Everything has its time. And everything ends.”

\- Sarah Jane Smith, _School Reunion_

* * *

_July 4, 1976, Cape Canaveral, FL, USA._

Sarah Jane is driving Bessie down one of those long coastal Florida roads. 

She and the Doctor have left the TARDIS behind at the Kennedy Space Center after clearing up that nasty incident with the Zulan Potentate trying to take over what little remained of the American space program.

But that’s a whole other story.

So now the Doctor is in the passenger seat, content that for once he’s not the one in control. The hot, humid air is whipping through his curly hair and making his ridiculous scarf trail off behind him like some kind of bizarre banner.

Sarah Jane reaches up to adjust the rear view mirror to a better angle. She glances over at him and smiles, her eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses.

“Enjoying the ride?”

“Mmmm,” he replies noncommittally.

“Is that Gallifreyan for ‘Don’t wreck my car, Sarah Jane’?” she teases, and he laughs. 

She turns on the radio, and now Paul McCartney is singing some kind of nonsense about silly love songs. The Doctor rolls his eyes, but Sarah Jane just smiles and turns the volume all the way up.

* * *

The hotel is right on the beach. 

It’s exclusive and pricy, and Sarah Jane doesn’t ask how it is that they have a reservation when every hotel, motel, and bed and breakfast is booked up solid for the holiday weekend, the American Bicentennial.

They have a picnic on the beach, and the Doctor regales her with stories of the time he’d spent in Colonial America. Evidently, he had helped write the Declaration of Independence. 

“That bit about life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness was _my_ idea, you know,” he tells her brightly, and it suddenly occurs to her that she’s never quite sure when he’s lying.

Later, they stroll on the beach among the other revelers and watch fireworks off in the distance, and she wonders how much longer it will all last.

* * *

Wrapped in a long blue robe, Sarah Jane stands on the balcony of their hotel room and looks out to sea.

“It’s late,” he says, and she starts. She hadn’t heard him come up behind her.

“I know,” she replies.

“Or early, I suppose.” He lays a cool hand on her shoulder and she leans back against him, relaxing into his touch. “Depends on how you look at it.”

“Doctor – ”

“Shh.” The hand on her shoulder slips inside her robe, and she feels like melting against his coolness.

From somewhere outside, a fragment of song seems to drift by on the breeze.

 _”Christ, you know it ain’t easy,”_ John Lennon’s faint, faraway voice sings. _“You know how hard it can be.”_

They stand in silence for a moment. 

Out on the water, a cruise ship slips by almost silently, gliding up the coast to Port Canaveral. It looks like a giant glittery floating city coming out of the night.

She turns to face him and sees with surprise that he is naked. His head is bent and his eyes are in shadow.

“Come back to bed,” he finally says. His voice is quiet, husky. “Please?”

She has the feeling that this is an ending, but neither of them knows it yet.

She nods, slips her hand into his, and follows him.

The next day, they meet Eldrad.

* * *

_April, 2011_

The Doctor is woken by the sound of Amy and Rory having a “discussion” in the corridor outside his room.

“It’s not like I _meant_ to do it!” Rory is protesting.

“But I _told_ you to leave that switch alone!” Amy replies angrily. “Now how are we going to get all of those butterflies back in that room before he wakes up?”

Rory’s reply is too low to be heard.

The Doctor sighs. He gets out of bed and begins looking for his clothes.

As he dresses, he tries not to think of the dream he had been having:

_A cruise ship was slowly leaving port. Sarah Jane stood on a balcony, her head and shoulders wrapped loosely with a gauzy white cloth._

_On shore, he jogged along after the ship, futilely trying to keep up while not tripping over his scarf._

_The ship’s speed increased, and it sailed off toward the horizon._

_He fell to his knees, defeated, exhausted._

_“Goodbye, Doctor!” Sarah Jane called, waving. “Goodbye!”_

He suddenly wonders what the date is, and a voice inside his head that sounds very much like his Fourth self assures him that he _really_ doesn’t want to know.

FINIS.

**Author's Note:**

> ADDITIONAL AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote most of this fic while listening to "[The Boys Of Summer](http://youtu.be/rMYnWqm-aZo)" by Don Henley, and in fact its original working title was _Don't Look Back, You Can Never Look Back_. If you listen to the song, you'll definitely see that it inspired some of the imagery in this fic ("You've got the top pulled down and the radio on, baby").
> 
> The title was "borrowed" from Tom Petty's "[Mary Jane's Last Dance](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aowSGxim_O8)" (yes, that's Kim Basinger, and yes, that video is deeply disturbing on so many levels I can't even), though I didn't really have the song in mind when I was writing this. However, giving it a listen afterward, I was struck by what a good fit the song is. Well, as long as you ignore everything up until the first time we hear the chorus, anyway. :p


End file.
